


I remember everything.

by WhisperingMagpie



Series: Prompts [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-08 17:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12869235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingMagpie/pseuds/WhisperingMagpie
Summary: 91, Wincest'I remember everything."





	I remember everything.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outoftheashes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outoftheashes/gifts).



"Deeeeeeeeee!"

Dean grinned and set down his backpack as his younger brother ran up to him. At four years old, he was still about a foot shorter, small enough for Dean to pick up and ruffle his hair. He grunted in feigned effort as he lifted Sammy off the ground for a few seconds in a tight hug. 

"Gettin' big, Sammy! Won't be able to pick you up anymore if you keep growing."

Sam giggled and squirmed away, ducking his head as Dean messed up his hair.

"Know what day it is, De?"

Dean said nothing as he crouched down and started digging in his backpack, and for a moment Sam started to pout and fidget. Maybe Dean had forgotten and was just pulling out some homework. Then Dean turned around and held up an extra large package of Reese's peanut butter cups. 

While Sam squealed and stretched out his arms to grab the candy, Dean stood up, holding the chocolate higher than he could reach. 

"Course I remember. Happy Birthday, Sammy. But before dessert, I'm gonna make you the best damn grilled cheese you've ever eaten. How's that sound?"

"Yeah!" Sam nodded excitedly and flung his arms around Dean, clinging tightly so that Dean could barely move to shuffle over to the stove. 

\---------------

Dean showing up at Sam's college was the last thing he expected, after a year without any kind of communication. They used to call, or Dean would send him cheesy post cards, but those started to taper off as well. Sam focused on his studies, trying not to think about whatever Dean was up to. He only hoped Dean was just too busy, and not that he was dead somewhere, ripped apart by a monster he and dad had been hunting the middle of nowhere. 

The last thing he ever expected, was for them to start drinking, and keep drinking until they couldn't see straight. They started leaning closer, hands touching, rubbing over clothing, sneaking underneath to touch bare skin. Lips finding eachother. It was like Sam had never left, and they were as close as they used to be.

When Sam woke up, he pulled the blankets up over his shoulders and curled up, stretching an arm out to find his brother, but only touched the cold, empty sheets. He frowned and sat up, spotting Dean crouched by his bag, fully dressed and tying his boots.

"Dean? Its early. Where you going?"

Dean's shoulders tensed, and he picked up his bag, straightening up stiffly. He kept his head down, not looking Sam in the eye.

"I gotta head out. Dad called, said there's a case and he needs me ASAP."

Sam nodded slowly, stretching out his stiff muscles. The previous night started to come back to him, and he sighed. He never meant for things to get out of hand, and Dean probably hated him for it. Probably wanted to get far away from his disgusting little brother.

"Dean...I..."

"Save it, Sam," Dean cut him off, "I wasn't that drunk. I remember everything, and it's probably best we go back to being distant. Visit on holidays. Regular family stuff."

Then he was out the door before Sam could say another word, leaving him to stare at the door, tears starting to streak down his face.

Dean almost ran the Impala off the road while he blinked furiously through blurry, wet eyes.

\---------------

The door slowly creaked open, Dean grumbling as he opened his eyes, to find his eleven year old little brother standing in the doorway, his big fluffy blanket wrapped around his skinny body. Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, lifting the blanket for Sam to slide under. Before long, his octopus of a brother had an arm and a leg slung over him, pressing close for warmth. 

When he thought for sure Sam was asleep and Dean could disentangle them and finally get back to sleep on his own side of the bed, Sam spoke up softly. 

"Dean?"

Dean sighed and began to rub Sam's back gently. "What?"

"Will you tell me about mom?"

Dean shook his head, yawning. 

"Go to sleep, Sam. Its late."

Sam whined and snuggled up even closer.

"Please? I...I don't remember her. What was she like?"

After a moment, Dean nodded.

"Okay, but you better go to sleep. Got it?"

Sam nodded vigorously and settled down, holding his breath as if in preparation for an epic story.

"She...she always smelled like wildflowers. Or like freshly baked bread. I swear, she was always baking something. Cookies, cakes, pies. She made the best damn apple pie. Dad always tried to steal a bite before it was cooled because he couldn't wait. Got a burned tongue and smack on the hand for it."

Dean glanced down and smiled at seeing Sammy's eyes starting to droop.

"She always cut the crusts off my grilled cheese, and made the best soup. And while dad was at work, she'd play hide and seek with me. And at bed time, she'd read me stories every night, and tuck me in. And..."

He stopped as he heard Sam's breathing start to even out, eyes having closed a few minutes back. He carefully started to pull away, only to have Sam clamp down his grip even tighter and make little snuffling noises in his sleep. Dean sighed and settled down, resigning himself to having a numb arm by morning, but it was okay, so long as Sam got some sleep.

\---------------

Dean was never the same when he came back from Hell. He seemed jittery and tense, always watching his back for some invisible fight. Sam tried to ask him what had happened, like he thought it'd help. 

'No, not everything can be solved by talking about it,' Dean told him, glaring daggers when Sam pestered him for the fourth time that week. Dean preferred to bury his sorrows in a bottle and come home late at night after Sam had gone to bed. However, Sam alway waited up for him, listening in the dark for fear that one day Dean wouldn't come home. Only then could he relax and drift off to sleep. 

He would hear Dean shuffling in like he was still half drunk and crash onto the bed fully clothed, and pass out on the spot, snoring like a freight train. Within a couple hours, Dean would wake up, screaming himself hoarse, and scaring Sam half to death, only to drink himself to sleep again. 

After a few months of little sleep, Sam grudgingly cornered his brother as he was heading out to the local small town pub.

"Dean, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Dean snapped.

"You know what. Drinking until you come back so wasted you barely make it in the door." Sam stood from the table where he'd been researching their next case, approaching his brother cautiously and reaching for Dean's arm.

Dean yanked himself away, one hand gripping the doorknob while he glared at the floor. "What do you expect? Its how we Winchesters cope when things suck. Helps me sleep at night, so unless if you have any other suggestions..."

Sam slowly edged closer, hands up in peace. "We could talk about this, Dean. I know you had a rough time down there. You say you don't remember, but you wake up screaming every night, barely sleep. I'm worried about you."

"A rough time, Sam? You think all I had was a 'rough time'? You have no idea what they did to me, what they forced me to do. And you think I want to TALK about it?" Dean looked up and stared incredulously, both hands clenching slowly into fists at his sides. "Yeah, I remember every damn day that happened down there. That what you want me to say, admit I've been telling you I don't remember to avoid talking about it? Well, fuck you, Sam."

Dean stormed out, slamming the door so hard the framed beach photograph on the opposite wall fell to the floor.

\---------------

Sam shuffled into the bunker kitchen, bare feet padding over the tile. He leaned against the counter, breathing deeply as he listened more than watched the coffee brewing. He could barely get his eyes open, after they got back late from taking out a pack of vamps. 

He rubbed at his eyes and yawned widely, then ran his hands through his hair. 

In the distance, he heard the door open and shut, then clunky boots coming down the stairs. He recognized Dean's footfalls, and yawned again, returning to staring at the coffee pot. When it'd finished brewing, he poured himself a cup and breathed deeply, a small smile forming as he took a sip. 

As he rested his coffee on the counter, hands wrapped around the warm mug, Dean walked into the kitchen and slid an arm around him, pressing a kiss to his neck. Sam sighed happily and turning to nuzzle at his cheek.

"Happy Anniversary," Dean murmured, pulling away. 

Sam turned around to see his older brother holding out a bundle of roses tied up in a glittery bow. He frowned and squinted at his watch, discovering that it was indeed the anniversary of the day they'd finally gotten over their bullshit and admitted their feelings for eachother.

"I know you would have wanted a live plant but I figured we're never home often enough to water it..."

"They're perfect, Dean," Sam took the deep red roses and inhaled, before setting them on the counter next to his coffee. Then he drew Dean closer, one hand on the back of his head, whispering against his lips, "Happy Anniversary, Dean."

When they broke apart, Sam picked up his coffee again, staring down into it sheepishly. "I...forgot it was our anniversary. I'm sorry. I don't have anything for you..."

Dean shook his head, slipping an arm around Sam again, leaning against the counter while he poured some coffee for himself. "I'm sure you can find some way to make it up to me in bed later."

Sam slowly grinned and nibbled along Dean's neck, almost causing him to choke on his coffee. "Yeah, I will, because I remember exactly how to make you come so hard you'll be seeing stars."


End file.
